thoughts on shadows and trees and slaps

sniff sniff. Last 'official' day yesterday of year ten. I don't know why, but it just feels so wrong- you know? Like, i can't really comprehend that it's over. I feel as though i need someone to slap me in the face, just to make me see the reality of the situation. I have attempted the deed (slapping) a few times myself- but alas, i have not seen the light.
sigh.
shall try not think on it. nah, that's bloody impossible. But i will try to try.

umm...sammypoo. wtf. I am not smart. We swearz!! we swearz it...on...on the precious! (lord of the rings, golem). But Seriously. it's a complete fuckin joke that i got it...i'm half expecting that tonight, i'll get up, waiting for my name to be called...and it never does...so i just stand there awkwardly, then retreat back to my seat with the eyes of 4000 burning into my back.

On that subject...my sister was right. She did get the media and biology prize. AND an academic excellence award.
Kate to Frankie: jesus. i've got a bloody lot to live up to ay?
Frankie to kate: heh.
am i doomed to forever live in my sisters shadow? Sometimes i try to reassure myself by saying i have a better grasp on morals than my sister...but this thought don't last long, when i recall how much my ethical compass's dial goes erratic, um, about every few seconds. hmm. eg>i have just noted how profanity has sneaked back into my bloggybyes. *(kate to her foul mouth) back! back! i'm warning you*<

wow. Emo is even affecting Christmas. No more, no more shall the conventional green christmas trees shelter the nations new rollerblades, toy trucks and jocks this summer. Instead; enter, the black christmas tree. Yes. You heard me. Black christmas tree. what. The fuck. The 25th of December is supposed to be a jolly time, a joyous time, a time filled with jocular cries and hearty slaps on the back. But the evil presence of that malign tree shall creep into every heart and DESTROY the warmth that this time of year brings. *noise of retching on blood and dramatic death* Once a symbol of peace and happiness, the blackened branches shall extend their twistened twigs, creeping up behind the innocent child. The genesis of laughter on lips shall die, as families sense 'it's' malicious aura reigning over christmas. No longer shall it be the protector of prezzies, but the jealous possessor.
alas! woe, woe! save yourselves, my dear friends, save yourselves! burn the beasts i say, burn! [or for the more environmentally conscious of you who is disinclined to add to our co2 emmissions, get out a saw and nails and convert them into bedside tables]